


The language of love

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8702467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: It’s something that Dean remembers vaguely kind of like the slight twitching below his belt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** My first language is French, second is English and third is Spanish, so I thought it’d be fun to mix it up a bit for the boys. :D
> 
> I wrote this story awhile back, so i thought, hey i should post this!
> 
> **********************************************************

t’s something that Dean remembers vaguely kind of like the slight twitching below his belt.

 

When Dean turned 16, he had a year old phase where he’d fuck nothing but Hispanic girls. There was just something so delectable about hearing ‘Si, si aye papi’ gasped in his ear. Don’t get him wrong, he loves all kinds of women –short, tall, leggy, curvy, White, Asian, Black, flat chested or with boobs so big they can be confused with watermelons– to him it’s pretty much an all you can eat buffet –and you know how much Dean loves to eat.

 

With Cassie, when they still were in their ‘fucking-on-every-available-surface phase, she used to sing to him right after sex, voice smooth and velvety and slightly husky from their previous exertions. She’d sing in what he later on figured out was Creole –a form of French from the islands like Martinique and Guadeloupe. 

 

Over the years his ‘exotic’ women –as he likes to call them– went from few and far between to none at all. There’s only so many opportunities a guy has when a) he’s fighting evil sonabitches every other week, b) hanging out at dirty bars and shady motels and c) being with his geek brother 24/7. Ever since Sam broke his deal –didn’t turn evil and stopped what most likely would have been the apocalypse– there’s been this sort of buzz between them. Some sort of undercurrent going on in the way they look at each other –side ways glances, secret smiles, simple touches, neck squeezes, hands on the small of each other’s back, flirting–

 

“Dean?!” Sam hisses under his breath and Dean’s attention is snapped back to their current job. – Zoning out on the job Dean? I thought I taught you better then that, His father would say and– whoa, thinking about John just after thinking about Sam and this, this nameless thing between them, well that’s all kinds of wrong.

 

“Votre partenaire va bien?” Dean licks his lips and tries his best not to shuffle around in his seat too much as he listens to his brother and their witness converse. Which is pretty much the whole reason he zoned out in the first place.

 

“Oui, il est un peu sous le choc, ce genre de crime gratuit l’atteint tout le temps.” A shiver runs straight down Dean’s spine. He’s ninety percent sure it has nothing to do with the half-naked hot French maid from L’hôtel St- François and everything to do with the way his baby brother’s gravely voice just forms those french words, like he was meant to speak it. Christ when did Sam learn to speak like that.

 

After interviewing the hotel’s staff Dean and Sam head into a dinner called ‘La vieille botte’ –and really what kind of restaurant calls themselves shoe... something?– just for that Dean makes a mental note to stay far away from the ‘spécial du jour’.

 

“Dean!” Sam hisses for the second time that day, kicking him in the shins. Dean’s head snaps up to glare at his brother before he turns his attention towards the slightly annoyed waitress waiting to take his order.

 

“Et vous monsieur, qu’allez-vous prendre?’ She repeats causing Dean to stare dumbly at her, one eyebrow cocked, because hello? If hunting teaches you anything at all; it’s to make sure you actually understand what’s going on at all times –and right now, Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a damn clue what that chick just said– and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened back in Nebraska. He really doesn’t want to end up sitting on a lily pad and eating flies again.

 

Before Dean can say ‘what the fuck’ Sam’s cutting in with his order. “Il va prendre un steak bien saignant, avec des pommes de terre sautés et des légumes-” Sam pauses and Dean swallows thickly. “-et du vin rouge pour nous deux, merci.” Dean didn’t realize he was staring at his brother until Sam starts to turn red –kind of like a tomato– Dean blinks a few times, feels his face start to heat up to match Sam’s because he wasn’t just staring at Sam, he was staring at Sam’s mouth.

 

Which is pretty sexy when you think about it. Especially when Sam puts on his pissy face, his bottom lip sort of pushes out –all plump and pink– making Dean want to kind of nimble on it and suck it into his mouth...

 

“Dean-” He blinks trying to focus on something other then Sam’s mouth this time, “-you’ve been-” The thing about Sam is that Dean knows he knows about the undercurrent-y, buzz-y, fluff-y... what-ever-the-fuck thing that’s going on between them. Hell, he’s probably known about it seconds after it started, he’s the smart one after all. Both of them know better then to mention it though. So Dean doesn’t doubt for a second that Sam hasn’t noticed the way he’s been acting all day. “...spacy.” Sam finishes a little shyly, causing Dean to snort. Dean knows Sam wanted to say something along the lines of daydream-y but they’ve been together for so long, that they both know that if Sam ever went there, Dean would seriously kick his ass.

 

“I’m fine Sam, just tired I guess.” Dean shrugs. They both know it’s a lie, but Sam knows better then to call him on it. If things were like they used to be, Sam would sit there and push Dean into telling him what was wrong, but ever since Sam broke the deal, things haven’t really been the same.

 

They sit there quietly for a while and Dean can almost feel the sexual tension building. Dean’s eyes snap to Sam at the thought, and then back to the table. Jesus, he just- sexual tension!? So much for not putting a name to things. Sam’s your brother for Christ’s sake, way to be a pervert Dean.

 

“So...” Sam tries his best to start small talk. Awkward much?

 

And what does Dean always do in situations like these? “You never told me you could speak French Sammy.” He says with a smirk. It’s a lame ice breaker, Dean knows it, Sam knows it and that old elderly couple that keeps staring at them –probably thinking they’re bumping uglies– knows it too. Sam rolls his eyes. “Really though, you think you know a guy and then out of nowhere –BAM– he starts speaking French.”

 

“Yeah.” Sam shrugs, stopping to take a sip of water and– shit! Sam’s hands are huge. Dean watches Sam lift the glass to his lips and lay it back on the table. It looks so tiny wrapped up in Sam’s hand, he’s totally dwarfing the thing. Suddenly this image pops in Dean’s head Dean’s on his back, Sam hovering over him and one of those huge hands are wrapped around Dean’s...

 

“Ever since I was 12, I just- I had this thing for different languages.” Sam looks a little embarrassed as he speaks, “Mostly Spanish-” Dean sputters and lays his glass back on the table trying not to choke, because that’s when he started with his own Spanish loving. But that can’t mean anything. Sure they used to share a room back then, but Dean doesn’t think he was ever that loud with his dates. Was he? “Stanford offered optional language courses and I thought, Pourquoi pas?” Dean shivers when Sam breaks off into French, and there’s no way Sam doesn’t miss it. There’s no way Sam could miss the way Dean’s eyes zero in on his mouth, or the way he shifts in his seat. The thing about the undercurrent-y, buzz-y, thing-y is that neither of them acknowledge it –ever– but now with Sam’s eyes darkening and the way he licks his lips, the only thing Dean can think of is ‘Mais merde!’ and even he knows that means ‘well shit!’

 

\---

 

 

The ride back to the motel is charged. There’s so much sexual electricity flowing between them that Dean’s afraid he’ll get a shock. Shut up! Only a real man is able to admit that kind of truth.

 

Dean dares a look at Sam from the corner of his eye, which is a big mistake, given the fact that he’s slouched against the passenger side door –legs spread obscenely in front of him, bangs mostly covering his eyes and his bottom lip is jutted out, looking so pouty and adorable– 

 

What? Being horny makes it okay to use words like adorable. Shut up! It’s true. 

 

“Dean–” Sam breathes and he’s right there, panting into Dean’s ear. When did he get there anyway? Wasn’t he all over there by the window looking all sexy and– 

 

His teeth start to nibble at Dean’s earlobe, Ohhhh...

 

“Je te veux,” What was that? Surely there isn’t some kind of black dog in the back seat making those groaning sounds... oh wait. That’s Dean. Dean moans again and tries his best to focus on the road. 

 

“Sam–” Dean’s voice his gruff. He read somewhere – maybe on a blog or whatever– that if you give up control early in a mano y mano relationship, you’re pretty much stuck as the wifey –and it’s not like Dean’s not man enough to take it. It’s just that, he knows what Sam’s packing in those pants of his, and Dean really does enjoy the wonders of sitting down properly.

 

“J’ai envi de toi, de te toucher partout,” Dean really is about to thank God –whether he believes in him or not– for actually not making him drive off the road but he figures their about to commit incest, so there’s no need to call the Big man in for the show. The apocalypse can wait another day after all.

 

\---

 

It’s not exactly how Dean pictured it. For one, there was a lot less clothes and a lot more nakedness involved. Someone was definitely bent over that table in the corner of the room –because it looks like it was just made for fucking on– and there was a whole lot of moaning going on.

 

Dean shakes his head a little to clear it –trying to get all the imaginary fucking out of his head– and sees Sam staring at him from his bed.

 

“Dean, I–” Dean knows exactly what’s about to happen. He knows Sam and Sam isn’t the kind of guy to jump into bed with just anyone. He needs a joint account, an apartment somewhere and commitment. Though Dean can’t give him the first two –because hello, Dean Winchester here– and he might not be okay with having sex with a gu- his brother but he’s totally okay with committing to Sam.

 

“I know. Me too,” Dean says, trying for a reassuring smile and kind of just, leans over the space between the two beds and kisses Sam. It’s not what he expected –not like Dean ever thought about this... much– but the world doesn’t stop spinning, the floor doesn’t open up to swallow them and there’s no fireworks, it’s kind of... the worst kiss he’s ever had actually. They’re both trying to lead so there’s teeth knocking and noses bumping and way too much tongue, but when Dean tilts his head to the left and Sam just stops being scared and finally just lets go, it turns into something that makes Dean’s heart race and his lungs close up so it’s hard to breathe at the same time –But maybe that’s just the lack of oxygen. When they pull apart Dean just stands there leaning over Sam and they both stare at each other for a while. It’s all romantic and slightly girly and–

 

“Ok, time to get naked!” Sam says suddenly. Hell, yes! Sammy’s getting with the program. 

 

Dean laughs slightly while he tears at his clothes, throwing everything off and out of the way. Clothes fly everywhere –Dean’s boots knock into the bedside lamp, his shirt hangs from the ceiling fan, his jeans are hanging somewhere behind him over the little table in the corner and then he’s finally naked –except for his amulet, and when he thinks about it, hasn’t it always been about Sam? 

 

Dean looks at Sam laying on the bed and he starts to blush –honest to God blush– when their eyes meet. Sam’s still fully clothed, sitting on the bed while Dean’s standing just in front of him very naked. Dean’s never been a modest person and he knows he’s damn hot, but the way Sam’s looking at him –like he sees right through Dean, is just too much– 

 

Being lusted after? Been there done that. But that look –it’s not just lust– it’s something a lot deeper and more meaningful then lust could ever be and Dean doesn’t even want to think the word right now, but he knows what it is. 

 

“Sam.” He’ll never admit it, but his voice suddenly goes tight, because this? This is huge. This isn’t that buzz-y, tingly unspoken thing anymore, this is anything but that. After this, there’s no going back and if Sam decides to leave–

 

“Je te quitterai jamais” Dean draws in a ragged breath. It’s not the words but the way Sam’s voice is small but determined, real and raw that gets to him.

 

“Come here Dean,” He whispers and reaches out to put his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling him in. Dean takes a few short steps towards Sam and when he’s close enough, Sam nuzzles his face to Dean’s stomach.

 

This isn’t just sex, this is intimacy. It’s real and nice and something that Dean’s been craving for with Sam before he even knew he wanted it. Dean lets his eyes slide closed and he sways on his feet as Sam starts laying butterfly kisses on his skin. Dean’s hard, he’s been hard since they’ve left the dinner and he can feel his erection sliding against Sam’s clothed chest.

 

“Je te veux dans ma bouche,” Sam breathes the words over the tip of Dean’s cock and without warning he opens his mouth and takes him in. Dean knows he’s never done this before, it’s sloppy, too much tongue and too much teeth but it’s Sam so it’s the most amazing head Dean’s ever had. Because unlike any of the others, Sam matters, this matters and it means something. This isn’t just another nameless chick in a sleazy bar, it isn’t just to get off, it’s solidifying something that was always there, lurking in the back of both their minds.

 

And it doesn’t matter that Dean sounds like a chick for even thinking something like that while getting head, because this is why he made the deal in the first place, because he couldn’t –still can’t– live without Sam because Dean loves him –loves him so much it hurts sometimes.

 

Dean looks down at Sam, at the way his brows are furrowed tightly, look of complete concentration on his face and he thinks, ‘Only my Sammy would get this serious over a blow job’. He reaches down to touch his baby brother’s face, his cheek, his fingers playing with Sam’s too long hair and he just leans into the touch, let’s Dean feel the way his cock slips in and out of his mouth. With each bob he fits more inside, swallowing almost half of it now, and Dean thinks by the end of it he might actually be deep throating his cock, because Sammy’s a fucking overachiever. He starts moaning around Dean’s cock, their eyes burning into one another’s, unable to look away. Sam reaches his hand behind Dean’s balls, cups them in his hand, rolls them a few times and just like that Dean let’s go.

 

\---

 

Hey.” Sam whispers, voice raw.

 

“Hi.” Dean whispers back, afraid to talk any louder. Silence follows and Dean really wants to laugh –only the Winchesters could be this awkward after a blow job– but he doesn’t because Sam looks more embarrassed then awkward. His cheeks are bright pink and he’s shifting uncomfortably on the bed. 

 

Dean has a feeling he knows why Sam’s embarrassed, so before Sam can figure out what’s going on Dean drops to his knees and all but rips his pants and underwear down to find that... “Well damn Sammy,” Dean smirks up at him. 

 

“Didn’t know I turned you on so much.” He definitely came without being touched and just from sucking Dean’s dick, which just makes Dean more smug and it looks like he’s very proportional, even bigger then Dean is. The fucker!

 

“Dean.” Oh hell no. Chick flick moments can definitely wait for later. “Oh,” Looks like Dean’s better at shutting Sam up then he thought. Well, for now at least. 

 

\---

 

It’s later –much, much later– when they both realize that neither of them are 16 years old boys anymore and there probably is such a thing as coming too much. 

 

Dean is by no means a cuddler –very far from it– but Sam is so pliable under his touch that he can’t resist holding onto him just that much longer. His head is resting on Dean’s chest, one arm and leg thrown over his body. Dean presses a soft kiss to his temple and he feels like his heart is ready to burst when he feels Sam smile against his skin.

 

In the morning Dean’ll deny all those acts of affection, because Dean Winchester is a stud, a sex machine and he certainly does not cry during sex and never has!

 

“Dean,” Sam whispers while placing a soft kiss over his heart. “Je t’aime tellement.”

 

“Yo tambièn mi amor.” Dean whispers back.

 

Okay, so maybe Dean Winchester is all about affections and declarations of love and maybe, just maybe, he does cry during sex. So what? He’s man enough to admit it damnit! And if you tell a soul, he’ll kick your ass. 

 

Le End.

 

 

Translations:

‘Si, si aye papi’ - Yes, yes daddy! (So kinky right?)

 

“ Votre partenaire va bien?” - Is your partner okay?

 

“Oui, il est un peu sous le choc, ce genre de crime gratuit l’atteint tout le temps.” - Yes, he’s just in shock crime against innocent people just gets to him.

 

‘La vieille botte’ - The old boot or the old shoe

 

‘spécial du jour’ - The day’s special.

 

“Et vous monsieur, qu’allez-vous prendre?” - And you sir, what will you be taking?

 

mano y mano - Man on Man/ guy on guy

 

“Il va prendre un steak bien saignant, avec des pommes de terre sautés et des légumes…et du vin rouge pour nous deux, merci!” - He’s taking a steak… rare with fried potatoes and vegetables…And some red wine for the both of us, thank you!

 

Pourquoi pas?” - Why not? 

 

‘Mais merde!’ - Well shit!

 

“Je te veux.” - I want you.

 

“J’ai envi de toi…de te toucher partout” - I crave you, wanna touch you everywhere.

 

“Je te quitterai jamais.” - I’m never leaving you.

 

“Je te veux dans ma bouche.”  - I want you in my mouth 

 

“Je t’aime tellement.” - I love you so much.

 

“Yo tambièn mi amor.” - Me too, my love.


End file.
